


Special Two, The

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post Bartlett Administration, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-14
Updated: 2005-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-15 14:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A future fic.  A narrative from an original character.  What defines the perfect couple and is there such a thing?  Not such a great summary (sorry).  This is a angsty and a tad schmaltzy fic.   Quite sad too perhaps.





	Special Two, The

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

 

**The Special Two**

**by: Toni Harrison**

**Character(s):** Sam, Ainsley and OC narrative  
**Pairing:** Sam/Ainsley   
**Category(s):** Romance/Angst   
**Rating:** CHILD  
**Summary:** A future fic. A narrative from an original character. What defines the perfect couple and is there such a thing? Not such a great summary (sorry). This is a angsty and a tad schmaltzy fic. Quite sad too perhaps.  
**Author's Note:** : The Special Two by Missy Higgins taken from the album named The Sound of White. Wonderful stuff. This was an idea that crept into my head whilst being away travelling and reminiscing a bit about the glory days of The West Wing. Feedback much appreciated. 

How do you define the perfect couple? By how many roses he sends her even when it's not their anniversary. By the kisses they give each other? By the way they laugh together and all the time they spent together just seems effortless? 

I don't know. I never believed that there's any such thing for so long. And yet, whenever I would sneak a glance at them I felt they almost had it. 

They would claim that it wasn't always the case, that she drove him crazy to begin with and certainly not with anything approximating to desire. Poles apart they were, and in many ways always so. 

My best first real memory of us a family was of them taking me and my brother to Florida for his fourth birthday and what I claimed was my 7 and a half year birthday when we went to Disneyworld. Mom's the biggest kid around for that kind of thing and of course, she, Matt and I adored it but it was Dad who was the revelation. I'd never really thought of my Dad as being a fun guy, I don't really know if I ever really knew he existed. Crazy to think that now. He was so busy doing motivating talks and being an 'expert' on talk shows and that kind of thing that I just knew him as 'the man who was on the television but would sometimes pop out of the tv screen somehow to come and kiss my Mommy and my brother and then me goodnight'. 

Disney was the first time I ever got a glimpse of my Dad, Sure I'd seen him before but he transformed himself that weekend in my eyes from the man on the screen into the Dad that I would love always that holiday, went on every single ride with me and I actually think he had more fun than any of us, Mom would do her best to embarrass Dad always when we reminisced about that vacation and his desire to go on the teacups ride fourteen times. Dad just laughed as we all did. 

I think it was that vacation that persuaded Dad to not go to New York or Washington quite so often for the talk shows and instead he'd work from home a lot, would write in Magazines, do consultancy work from home and concentrate on what he said was his favourite full time job 'bringing up the babies'. Of course how could he and Mom have known the effect that would have on their marriage. Mom was the super hands on totally into our education and upbringing person you knew she was born to be. She would talk about her days as a Lawyer, sometimes with a smidgeon of regret in there but never with any resentment. She loved being a Mother and it showed. 

The loss of the excitement of their reunions every Friday evening til the Tuesday morning was massive. So many families say that that seperation causes them to implode. For our family, it was the opposite. They fought like cat and dog and whereas once that would last five minutes maybe because Dad would have forgotten to notice Mom's new haircut or something, now it would go on for days and days over something as simple as Dad forgetting to flush the toilet. It felt all wrong and by now as a nearly 9 year old, it was scary. That's not to say that they fought like that in front of me and Matt. They'd do anything to try and prevent that but I wasn't stupid. There was a tension around the house at mealtimes, there weren't any stolen kisses anymore or little glances across the dinnertable. 

I've always been a precocious child, I know I have. Probably the bane of my parent's life for much of the time I've been around but when the arguments carried on every day for more than a few weeks I knew enough to know that maybe I'd have a lot more in common with some of my classmates than I ever thought. I'd seen friends in my class at school whose parents had split up and pitied them as much as a small kid ever could, but always felt assured that that wasn't anything that could happen to my family. When I lay in my bed at night the picture on my bedside table was that of us all with Mickey Mouse in Orlando, how could that happy family turn into this? I didn't want to have to decide whether I wanted to live with my Mom or my Dad, I wanted to live with both of them. 

On the 16 October 2011 though, Mom came to me in my room and explained to me that she and Dad loved Matty and me so very much but they'd decided that they needed a little space and so Dad was going to stay with some friends for a while until they'd sorted their differences out. He was going to stay with Uncle Toby. I like Uncle Toby, I'm never sure that he liked me when I was really little, apparently all I used to do was pull at his beard. The only other man I knew that had a beard was Santa. 

I remember asking how long Dad was going to Toby's for, Mom started to speak and then just crumbled. Then holding her and telling her everything would be okay and looking up and seeing Dad in the doorframe holding Matt in his arms and crying too. When I think of that now, I just think it's such a waste, back then all I wanted to do was make it right. Mom and Dad were too good for this. Matt and I were too good for this. I wrote in my diary that night 'Dad left today. They all cried. I won't. We'll be together again even if I have to drag them back together' and I then wrote 'please let them fall in love again' 50 times on that diary entry alone. I probably thought it in my head another 5000 times. 

My day for the next 18 months consisted of exactly the same routine, get up. school. talk to Mom incessantly about Dad. send an email to Dad talking incessantly about Mom. talk incessantly about my Mom and Dad to my friends on the phone or on email. eat. sleep and again and again. Mom was amazing during those months, they both were. I don't think I ever heard them fight over the phone and whenever we would either go up and see Dad in his apartment in Washington, or he would come and see us at Christmas or any of the holidays, everything felt so normal again. 

But they never kissed, at least not for a year. Mom never dated anyone else. I don't think I'd have let her in all honesty. I don't actually know if Dad ever dated, for all we know he could have dated three hundred women, though I'm pretty sure that'd have made the news somewhere given his fame in the past. What scared me more than anything else was that during those 18 months, their body language seemed to be changing into that of good friends rather than husband and wife. And yet they'd never discussed the 'd' word. I was beginning to lose hope and beginning to lose interest in everything. 

It was around my 11th birthday that I almost ruined the family totally and yet in a perverse way I think unwittingly began the process of the rehabilitation of it. Matt and I coped in our own seperate ways with the collapse of our parent's marriage. After an initial spell of real disruptive behaviour at school, Matt began to get used to it and I think in some ways loved the fact that he would get double the amount of attention. Mom would lavish us with love at home and then Matt would fly to see Dad and go play baseball with him and get taken to the games and get really close to his Dad on a man to man level. 

I was obsessed with getting them back together though. I was all about keeping up appearances too. No one except Lois my closest friend knew about Mom and Dad, or at least that's what I thought. It was just after we'd been up to see Dad that I went into school on Tuesday morning and looked at my locker. There on the front of it was a newspaper cutting, just a small one from a gossip columnist and with a picture of a man that looked uncannily liked my Dad, with a woman who looked nothing like my Mom. I didn't even stop to read the article, didn't even register that she looked a whole lot like someone I knew so very well anyway. 

I tossed my school bag on the floor, screamed and ran. and ran. and ran some more. I ran for about 30 minutes and then stopped dead. If you've seen Forrest Gump then when he's doing that run and then just stops and says he just wants to go home?, that was me. Except I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to go anywhere except back in time to our old life. 

I walked a little bit more and then came to a field where I just sat down and thought about Disneyworld and how great life used to be. After running for so long and having begun to feel cold I fell asleep pretty quickly in the cold dewy grass. I remember waking up once and almost weeping with relief when I saw my Mom and Dad in front of me kissing and laughing but then turning away without even looking at me and wanting to cry but I didn't have the strength and sleep just seemed too appealing. 

I was only missing for 17 hours. Dad said when he got the phone call, his first reaction was to check the flights to Dulles and then to sit down and sob. Mom took Matt to some neighbours and went out looking for me with the rest of them, somehow keeping herself together. As soon as Toby had talked some sense into Dad, he caught the first plane down and went straight to Mom's side and to find me. 

When I woke up in the hospital, I'll always remember the red rimmed eyes of my parents and the sheer relief and pleasure at seeing them together again. It took some time with a childhood counsellor to get me to remember what had caused me to run in the first place and in a millisecond I recognised Donna Lyman with her arms linked with my Dad and them making their way into the memorial service for the late President Bartlett who'd died 5 years before. 

Somehow though I didn't feel guilty, I just felt so confident that this would be the thing that would convince Mom and Dad to get back together again. But life isn't always about happy endings. And so after 6 weeks of being with Mom, Matt and I and me begging them to get back together and even my little brother telling me to let it be, Dad went back to DC. 

Thing is this time round, it felt okay. We all got on with our lives. I was a real celebrity at school for my little adventure and for the fact that my friends well and truly knew my Dad was someone special and famous. I always made sure to point out that Mom had been pretty big too. But I think my girl friends admired my Dad for more than just his fame. 

I got to know Dad real well. I'd go and see him two weekends a month, no more than that as my social life was taking off at home. I had a boyfriend, actually I had several and I was a cheerleader now. But those weekends with my Dad were golden. Perfect times when we'd sit in parks and Dad would tell me all about the days at The White House, the bad times, how he regretted the way it all ended for him there and about the friendships he had. He told me about him and Mom, the wonderful times they had together, he'd tell me about their fights and then tell me I was the image of my Mom and how proud he was of me. 

I'd go with Dad to meet Josh and Donna and we'd go to Arlington to visit President Bartlett's memorial. I went with Dad to Leo McGarry's funeral and watched with pride as my Dad was pallbearer and hugged my Dad as he sobbed and then as he hugged Mallory and was so attentive and sweet to her young children. 

I think Dad and I became friends, I hope so. I know so. 

Life continued as normal for us all for the next three or so years. Mom had a few boyfriends, all of them vetted by me and Matt. All of whom we liked but were blown out of the water by Mom. Matt was beginning to prosper as a sportsman at high school and I was busy reading books, writing novels, arguing in debates and despite myself showing every sign of following in a certain person's footsteps. 

I don't remember that many dates in my life, 16 October 2011 is one but no matter what else I do in this life, Thursday 16 March 2017 will be the one day. 

I was by now a teenager and with everything that brought, my Mom was the epitome of patience, my brother the epitome of annoyance and my Dad, my hero or a source of embarrassment from one moment to the next and depending on which side of the bed I got or whether I had a good hair day or not. 

I'd just gotten home from school and was ready to go up and listen to some music before heading out with Lois for some bowling. Thing is the voice I heard in the living room was my Dad's I was sure and I'd only seen him two weekends previously and he hadn't given any sign that he was planning a visit down south anytime soon. 

No matter, the kid in my heart leapt for joy and I bounded into to say Hi but that I really couldn't stop and how long was he here for? 

The moment I stepped into the room though I felt the strongest desire to run straight back out again and felt panic I'd not felt since that day in October less than six years before. 

Mom had been crying, actually scratch that she was still crying and Dad looked tired. Dog tired. I heard myself saying out loud that I couldn't stop and was on my way to see Lois and begging them so very hard in my head to start laughing and shouting out 'early April fool' and then the priest would appear from nowhere and they'd get married and we could get busy being a family again. It shows how confused I was considering they'd never even divorced. 

That of course didn't happen. I listened as my Dad told me that he'd been feeling tired for a long time and had had some pain and he'd decided after mentioning it to his one of his buddies at work and with his encouragement to go visit his doctor. I carried on listening as he told me that his Doctor had sent him for some scans and I still listened as he told me that he had been diagnosed with inoperable cancer. I listened as my Dad started to sob and told me that they didn't think he would ever see summer again. 

And then I picked myself up from the chair and announced I was on my way to see Lois. 

I did go and see Lois and we drove to that same field. And still it didn't hit me. Not until, we heard an car engine nearby and I looked up and saw my Mom and Dad and my little brother walking across the field to me. I got up and I hugged my Dad and we sat down on the grass all of us and watched the stars. 

And so now it's Tuesday 11 July 2017 and here we all are. 

The last nearly four months were like a big step in time to being a real kid again. Dad moved back down South and for the first two months, it was bliss. I actually asked him once if he was being truthful and if it was all just a big ruse this illness and that he'd still be here for my wedding and for the day Matt would play in the superbowl. Dad just smiled a little sadly. 

My Mom and Dad were never more beautiful than during these few months. I actually don't ever think they fell out of love during the days of seperation. Hell, even if they did, they fell right back in love. We didn't do much, we talked about going to Disneyworld all over again until I threw a adolescent crazy fit and decided I wanted to go watch my new boyfriend play soccer instead. 

What we did was better than Disneyworld though, we were a family all over again and everything seemed so normal and perfect. Dad was proving everyone wrong, Summer was here and so was Dad. 

On Wednesday 5 July we never left each other sides all day, I was up by 7am. Matt's football game was cancelled and Mom's usual Sunday routine of going with her best friend to swim and relax was postponed on account of Josie having summer flu. 

The day before had been the typical exuberant 4th of July celebrations. Fireworks everywhere and not a sober person in the garden. Except for my Dad. Dad was looking tired and he was in pain you could tell that but he was still every bit as stoical as always. 

The next day was IT though, I was nursing a terrible headache and we all knew the reason Matt's football game had been cancelled was probably because Coach Reynard was worse for wear too. 

We looked at photographs all day, talked more about our feelings than I ever had to my diary and it all felt so vital and real. Then Dad talked to us all seperately. He and Matt spent an hour talking in the back garden, when I would go into the kitchen to get some soda I'd catch a glimpse of them hugging, throwing a football around and laughing. I swear I caught a tiny tear in Matt's eyes but we just grinned at each other. 

I talked to my Dad for another couple of hours. We just talked about normal stuff, we debated political issues and he regaled with me tale after tale again of the Bartlett years. I think I heard those tales a thousand times. Believe me I could never get bored. Something felt different about this day, it felt so positive. We talked about the future a lot but never in terms of a future without him and he told me how proud he was of me. That was nothing new though. I actually went to bed believing my Dad was going to be okay. 

As I said my goodnights and went to bed I kissed my Dad on the forehead, hugged my Mom and went up the stairs, basking in the soft laughter floating upwards from downstairs. 

The next morning I woke up to a blue flashing light outside my bedroom window. As I pulled my dressing gown on and ran down the stairs and saw the front door ajar I knew what was happening. 

Mom and Dad had talked until 3am that morning. Mom had almost fallen asleep though as they reminiscined and admitted defeat just after 3am and went upstairs to bed. Dad said he'd follow her up in a few minutes and they kissed each other goodnight. 

It was Mom who found him downstairs at 9am and when she went to lightly cajole him and got no response, felt for a pulse. It was there, strong as always but she couldn't wake him. 

I never heard my Dad's voice again. Never saw his eyes open again. We all sat with him in the hospital telling him how much we loved him and begging him not to give in. That wasn't fair. We'd had another summer with him. 

I talked to him properly about what I would do with my life, how I would become a writer. How I'd marry some guy he'd be proud of and not Stevie the Linebacker. I told him how much I loved him and how much I hated myself for not telling him that sooner. I think he knew. He was the most intelligent man I ever knew. 

Matt was so brave but couldn't bear to spend too long with what was a shadow of his Dad. I don't think he's got over the shock of talking to Dad one day and never hearing his voice ever again. 

I don't think any of us has. 

And Mom. I don't know where she gets her strength from. I don't think I've ever told her quite how much I love her and I don't know if she knows quite how much Dad loved her. That was one thing Dad told me on Sunday. That the moment he found out about the cancer, there was only thought in his mind and that was home. And then as he thought of home, only one other thought was in his mind. His wife. 

My Dad always told me how proud he was of me, Matt and Mom too. And yet I never told him how proud I was of him. So now I say it, after he's gone and hoping for some divine intervention that I don't even really believe in because let's face it if there was such a thing, we'd be in some park somewhere eating rather than here talking about you Dad in the past tense. 

I'm so proud of you Dad. That's all I need to say. 

When I first sat down and started to write what I would say at your funeral Dad. I didn't plan the equivalent of War and Peace honestly. I think I got your genes for sure but probably a healthy sized proportion of Mom's chatterbox genes. 

As I read this back I keep going back to the first line. How do you define the Perfect Couple? 

I'm only 15. I'm not such a know it all. But when I define the perfect couple I think of only two people. 

Mom and Dad. 

'And we will only need each other, we'll bleed together, our hands will not be taught to hold another's, cos we're the special two. And we can only see each other, we'll breathe together these arms will not be taught to need another's cos we're the special two'. 

The end. 


End file.
